


Dreams and Visions

by LiterallyThePresident



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Kisses, M/M, kinda spoilers, they're younger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyThePresident/pseuds/LiterallyThePresident
Summary: Years before the film, Baze has a dream he refuses to believe could be a vision.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So they're younger in this, maybe twenties or thirties. I wrote this around midnight because I wanted kisses but I also wanted angst so I'm sorry.

Baze dropped a seventh kiss on Chirrut's nose, then an eighth and ninth on each cheek, a tenth on his forehead, where he lingered. Lying in their bed, lit only by the city lights outside their window, Chirrut was a far cry from the shattered apparition in Baze's most recent nightmare.

"How bad was it?" Chirrut asked, allowing the odd shower of affection with barely concealed fondness.

Baze thought of sand and fire. Explosions too close for comfort. Aches and pains and the faltering grip of a dying monk's hand. Chirrut, _his_ Chirrut, taking a final, shuddering breath, his insufferable mantra floating from his lips, echoed by his own wrecked voice. Chirrut's grip loosening, his head falling back, beautiful eyes fixed emptily at the sky, dead dead _dead_.

He crushed Chirrut to his chest, burying his face in a warm shoulder, taking in the scent of his monk. Forcing himself to feel the breaths tickling his ear, the heartbeat he could feel through the thin shirt, the warmth radiating from the smaller form.

Chirrut was alive. Chirrut was alive and warm and safe in his arms where he belonged.

"Baze? Speak. I want to help." came the beloved voice, an undercurrent of worry in the soft tone.

"I dreamt I held you in my arms." Baze admitted hoarsely, turning his head to kiss Chirrut's temple, "You were dead. We were on a beach, people were dying all around us, but all I could see was you."

"Ah." came the deceptively noncommittal response. A small kiss was pressed to his cheek, and Baze managed a smile, "I'm sorry. That must have been disturbing."

"I could not stand it." Baze said, pressing an eleventh kiss just under Chirrut's milky eye, "Losing you would destroy me."

"I know." Chirrut murmured, free hand coming up to stroking Baze's hair, "As your loss would ruin me. Let us not dwell on what ifs. I am here, I do not plan on leaving you. Ever."

"You better not." Baze mumbled, shifting them so he could lay on his back, Chirrut draped across his chest, "I would follow you and kick your ass."

"I always beat you in our spars." Chirrut pointed out, throwing an arm over Baze and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"I let you win." Baze grumbled, not loosening his hold.

"Of course." Chirrut smiled indulgently, closing his eyes.

"Oh, go to sleep."

Chirrut chuckled, but endeavored to obey, his breathing eventually evening out. Baze simply watched him for a while, trying to burn this moment, the peaceful expression on Chirrut's face, into his mind. He passed an hour that way until he felt sleep tugging at him, and let his own eyes fall shut, ready to join his monk in peaceful slumber.

Moments later, his eyes flew open as a revelation hit him, nearly making him gasp. Chirrut had been older in that dream, lines on his face and hints of gray in his hair, scars where there were none now. Baze felt his hands begin to tremble and pressed them harder against Chirrut to still them.

Chirrut often said that visions revealed the future, and were usually unavoidable. He'd said many times that Baze held a sensitivity to the Force, whether he wanted it or not, and Baze had always snorted and punched his shoulder. But that dream had been so vivid, so real. Clear and lucid, like Chirrut always described such visions.

The warmth at his side suddenly seemed fleeting. Fragile. Baze shuddered, curling tighter around it. He couldn't stand the idea that he would one day cradle Chirrut's dead form. He _needed_ him. They were going to die together, side by side. There was no Baze without Chirrut, just as there's no Chirrut without Baze. The image of Chirrut's dead body in the sand flashed in his mind, and he shook it away, clinging to Chirrut like a lifeline.

It was not a vision of any kind, Baze decided firmly. It couldn't be. That was an intolerable idea, and besides, why would the Force taunt him with a vision of Chirrut's death and not tell him how to prevent it? That would be cruel, and any entity Chirrut trusted could not be cruel.

Still, no more beaches for them. Just in case.


End file.
